


A Masterpiece in Every Sense of the Word

by SecretShadowDust



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, Hatfilms, Yogscast
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Eating Disorder, F/M, First Person, Gen, Heartbreak, Insecurities, Love, M/M, Multi, Not specified - Freeform, Other, Sad, Sadness, So much angst, hatfic, hatship, whatever floats your boat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 08:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10408230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretShadowDust/pseuds/SecretShadowDust
Summary: He is a mixture of everything people wish to obtain, his skin smooth as porcelain, his hair soft as feathers, his eyes holding the depths of the deepest oceans. He is a work of art, a masterpiece in all sense of the word.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So basically this started as Tross but it is entirely unspecified so it could really be anyone. Whoever you want them to be, they can be. It could be m/m or f/m or whatever, doesn't really matter!  
> Apologies (Not really) for the angst as always!

His smile is as kind as it is sturdy; as constant as the tide pushing the ocean into the shore and dragging it back again, a comfort that spread warmth through his body with only the equivalent of an all-consuming flame. His smile is as he has always been, a masterpiece.

His laugh is all that his smile is, a harmony so much rarer than he cared to admit. A melody, a song, more valuable than the most precious jewels and sweeter then warm honey.

His voice is deep and gentle, could soothe the angriest beasts and bring the hardest people to tears with barely a word spoken. 

He is a mixture of everything people wish to obtain, his skin smooth as porcelain, his hair soft as feathers, his eyes holding the depths of the deepest oceans. He is a work of art, a masterpiece in all sense of the word.

But on the inside he is damaged; more broken than shattered mirrors smashed by fists in fits of rage; more bruised and battered than the wives of men who couldn’t handle their liquor but insisted on drowning their sorrows in alcohol; he is as damaged as they came.

I used to think that he had it all together, that he was broken but calm, serene, gentle as the ocean lapping at your toes; and he was, but only to others, never to himself.

He once told me that his anger, his sadness and his anxiety, were storms, terrible things caught in his skin, battering against his bones and bruising his ribcage as they fought to be released, clashing together; raging a fight he could not control. He tells me that he is happy, but in his eyes I see the storms, grappling, trying to control him; in his eyes I see him, and I know he is so broken that I could never fix him but I have to try.

His laugh, His smile; him. I do it for him, for his happiness, so that he may share a melody with the world in the form of his laughter, may share kindness with others through his smile.

I wish only for him to be happy, I try so hard and forget at times that I too, am not undamaged. He tethers me to this world, his eyes, his smile, his words, as constant as the sun and the stars; I can depend on him as much as I can depend on the moon rising and setting for the sun, even if there are clouds he is there, doing his best to shine through the coverage if only for me to catch a glimpse.

He is broken, he is damaged and hurt. He is more beautiful than the moon dancing on still water, he is more breathtaking then a clear sky deep in the wilderness where the stars glow so strongly you know without a doubt that they shine far brighter than our sun ever will; he is so beautiful, my heart aches when he looks at his reflection and frowns; he is everything. I have never second guessed myself with him by my side, he is breathtaking and broken and I have never loved a man more in my life than I love him.


End file.
